Enraptured
by Heroes Fly-Minho's Hero Limps
Summary: OC story for all you Max fans. "I love you, he thought uselessly, and it left him in a voiceless whisper. I love you, and I've always loved you, and you've ruined me because I can never love anyone else again."
1. Chapter 1

-Enraptured-

-Hello, my awesome readers. Here I am, writing another Maze Runner fic. Yes, I know, it's an OC story, sorry people. But I just loved these characters so much that I needed to write something else for them. I hope you enjoy it and leave a review to let me know if you did :)

2manyOTPs, this one's for you ;)-

"When you wake up, cuz your bed is feeling cold,

and you reach out, cuz you want someone to hold,

you will see

what you need..."

–Need, by Gavin Degraw

1\. Get up.

2\. Go to work.

3\. Go home.

4\. Stop thinking about him.

5\. Stop thinking about him.

6\. God, please, let me stop thinking about him.

Though he tried to stick to his To-Do list, Max never seemed to get those last ones done.

-o-o-o-

Working in a restaurant wasn't really that bad.

The pay was good, the customers were happy, and the atmosphere, though busy, was enjoyable. All in all, a pretty good job. Max didn't mind it one bit.

Max worked at a large, glowing restaurant in Glade City, called Starstruck. It certainly lived up to the name. It was one of the most successful restaurants in the entire, gleaming expanse of the city, which was saying something. Glade City was a place of towering buildings, businesses, and apartments. People flocked there to see the elegantly ebony Wicked Inc. skyscraper, or the lush greenness of Haven Park at the center of the city. They loved the cute little shops that had sprung up along the streets, and the much bigger buildings of the large businesses. Overall, Glade City was the place to be if you wanted to see the best of the best.

But Max's life in the city centered around one thing and one thing only: cooking. Which was why he absolutely loved his job at Starstruck. Starstruck was a large building, painted softest gold on the outside and warmer colors on the inside. A spray of black stars dotted the wall around the spidery logo on the front doors. It was a place of music and food and light. Orange lamps hung from the walls. The furniture was elegant and a dark contrast to the golden light everywhere. And at the very back, a raised section of floor held a gorgeous piano. Low, jazz-like notes glided through the air constantly, played by a pianist (or, um, used to be played anyway. Their pianist had recently had to leave and so they were left to search for someone else as a replacement.)

Starstruck was a place of beauty, a place to enjoy yourself, to even fall in love. (You may remember a scene there, when the old pianist looked up to see a black-haired boy dancing slowly with a stunning blonde, moments before a certain proposal took place outside.) Well, Max hoped it was a place to fall in love anyway. Hoped that maybe he would fall in love.

Anything to get himself to stop thinking of him.

-o-o-o-

"MAX! WHY IS THERE A FIRE IN HERE?!"

Max glanced up from where he'd been attempting to grab a jar of spice from a cabinet. "Fire?" he echoed in alarm. His eyes scanned the kitchen he knew better than his own home: steel appliances, stovetops crowded with sizzling, steaming food, ovens, the sounds of chopping and stirring and raised voices. He couldn't find the fire at first. Until he spotted the flames leaping from another cook's pan. He rolled his eyes with a sigh. "That's SUPPOSED to be on fire, Fry!" he called back to the head chef/owner.

The head chef, a stocky, rather comical man nicknamed Frypan, planted his hands on his hips. His hazel eyes flicked to the fiery pan, then the cook handling it carefully. "Oh," he sniffed awkwardly. "I knew that."

Max gave him a disbelieving look, a smirk pulling his mouth up. "Sure you did."

"Aw, get back to work, ya shank," Frypan returned. But there was amusement in his voice. Frypan had known Max from high school, and the two had been friends since he'd started working here.

"Yes, sir," Max drawled teasingly in reply. He turned back to the dish he was preparing, sinking into the familiar rhythm of the kitchen. It was always chaotic and a bit hellish, but in a good way. The way that sent fire into your veins and made you want to work, want to make something. Max loved it.

That night was busy, but not as busy as other nights had been in the past. It was getting late after all. People were heading home, and families were bustling their children out the doors of the restaurant. It was just about time to start closing everything up. Once the usual hectic rush of the kitchen had finally died down, Max could make his way out into the main part of the restaurant. Frypan had mentioned that he wanted to talk to Max after work, and to meet him here. Max wasn't sure what it was about and he was a little curious. He paused by one of the tables to wait. The restaurant looked strange and empty with no one in it. As he stood patiently, he shrugged out of his white jacket, instead wearing only a T-shirt. He leaned against the table and crossed his arms. He didn't like quiet, lonely moments like this. They made him think of—

"Hey, there he is!" Frypan's loud voice made Max jump out of his thoughts. He looked up to see the head chef striding to him, arms spread in welcome. A wide smile split his face. "Max! I'm happy you waited for me, because there's someone here I want you to meet."

Max groaned at that. "Fry, I swear to God, if you're trying to set me up with some guy you found..." he trailed off in despair. Frypan's attempts at matchmaking royally sucked.

Frypan pointed at him sternly. "Hey, I can a shucking WONDERFUL matchmaker. It's not my fault that you happen to be gay and incompatible with EVERY MEMBER OF THE MALE SPECIES."

"Wow, way to hurt my feelings," Max pouted in feigned hurt. He placed a hand over his chest. "You just broke my heart, Fry."

"Yeah, yeah, go on and whine then," Frypan quipped, grinning widely. "Next time, don't come crawling to me when you wanna find a new man, okay? I have enough problems with my own relationship."

Max snorted. "WHAT relationship?"

"Shut up, I happen to be in a very happy relationship."

"Being emotionally attached to food doesn't count as a relationship."

"Okay, you know what?" Frypan chuckled at Max, tossing his hands up in resignation. "Enough of the relationship-talk. I still have to introduce you to our newest employee and he's probably wondering why I'm making him wait."

Max blinked, surprised. New employee? Surely they didn't need any more; the kitchen was full enough and they had plenty of waiters and waitresses. What else—Ohhhhh. Right. Max broke into a delighted smile. "What, you mean you found a new pianist?"

"Damn right I did," Frypan replied proudly. He puffed out his chest like he'd just accomplished something incredible. "He's pretty good, too. Can't wait to start work."

"Great!" Then Max cocked his head confusedly. "Wait, so why's he showing up here so late? We're already closing up today."

Frypan shrugged with one shoulder. "Well, he said he'd just finished school in New York," he explained slowly, "and apparently this was the earliest he could get here. He starts working tomorrow, of course, but I told him he could come check out the place if he wanted." Then something like a knowing gleam lit in his gaze. "And uh, when I mentioned you worked here...he wanted to see you."

Max's brow furrowed in puzzlement. Some new pianist wanted to see HIM? Why? "Me?" he asked aloud. "Why would he want to see me?"

Frypan's lips curled up into a smirk. He cleared his throat and threw a casual glance over his shoulder. He seemed satisfied with whatever he saw, because when he turned back to Max, his smirk was even wider. "Welllll," he began teasingly, "I actually think you might already know each other..." And with that, he stepped aside. And revealed the man just now walking into view from the front entrance of the restaurant. The figure was gazing around in faint awe at the lovely, arcing walls, but when he spotted Max, he halted.

Max felt like his breath had been stolen from his lungs. He could only stare. No. This couldn't be real. The person who'd been plaguing his thoughts every day since high school couldn't really be standing in front of him. The person he'd imagined walking in here so many times. The person he dreamed about. He tried to take a breath and it was shaky. His heartbeat stuttered.

"Max?" The figure took a couple steps forward, his eyes widening in shock. Then the shock faded into happiness. "I can't believe it's really you. It's been...wow, it's been...five years since I saw you."

Max felt his pulse jump at the sound of that voice. "Brian..."

The man, Brian, smiled and slung his thumbs in his front pockets. "Yeah, it's me," he replied warmly. "Same as when you last saw me."

"I can't believe this." Max shook his head, but a broad grin was curving his lips. He couldn't help the joy that burst inside of him like fireworks after the initial shock of seeing Brian. Brian. His best friend. His truest, closest friend. The boy he'd dated for four years in high school. Four of the best years of his life.

Frypan was glancing between them as though he expected them to start making out right then. "Aren't you glad I found this shank?" he asked Max, stepping up to Brian and clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Knew you two would know each other. I remember you were pretty close in high school. And I hit the jackpot when I found out this kid just got outta music school," he added, pointing his thumb at Brian.

Brian had blushed at the words "pretty close," and he lowered his gaze in that bashful way he did when he was embarrassed. Max couldn't take his eyes off of him. Brian was wrong; he wasn't the same as when Max last saw him. That Brian was short and boyishly cute, with floppy hair and a bright smile. This Brian was...gorgeous. He was taller, of course, and Jesus, he'd filled out. His shoulders were broader, and the sleeves of his black shirt showed off the curving muscle of his biceps. His wavy hair was long enough to fall into his eyes, and it was so dark, it was nearly black. And his eyes were like leaves in autumn. Max could drown in them.

"Yep," Frypan went on, nodding importantly. "I'm pretty good at finding quality employees, if I do say so myself."

Brian cast a glance up at the ceiling. "Normally I'd disagree with you, but this time you're talking about me, so I'll let it go," he joked.

"Good to know you still got your sense of humor, shuckface," Frypan flashed back.

Brian just laughed in reply. When his gaze turned to Max again, it was glowing cheerfully. Max ignored the way his stomach lit up with butterflies.

Frypan suddenly clapped his hands together, almost making Max jump. "Well, Brian, you wanna try it out?" he asked, and gestured with a hand at the piano.

Brian's eyebrows rose. "Right now?" he asked uncertainly. "Aren't you about to lock up?"

Frypan flapped a hand dismissively. "Eh, Max can lock up for me. He's done it dozens of times. Right, Max?"

"Oh, um." Max forced some confidence into his voice; Brian had seemed to steal it all from him. "Sure, no problem. Guess that means I'm staying late too."

"Guess you're right," Frypan agreed with a wink.

"Don't worry, Max," Brian put in assuringly. "I won't play too much. Maybe ten minutes, so you can get out of here."

"It's fine." Max smiled, putting all his fondness into it. "Play as much as you want."

Frypan seemed satisfied with the whole situation, and the fact that he'd made it happen. That chef could certainly be a bit cocky sometimes, but he was mostly just a good-humored cook who loved having fun. Max had always enjoyed working for him. He watched as Frypan exchanged his goodbyes with Brian, waved brightly to Max, and then practically bounced his way to the doors, happy the long night was over. Part of Max longed to be able to go home too. But a bigger part of him wanted to stay wherever Brian was as long as he could.

You see, it wasn't that Brian and Max had broken up because something had gone wrong. Nothing had gone wrong. They'd started dating their freshman year at Glade High and had been inseparable throughout high school. It had always been something like a crush at first, nothing serious. But as it went on and they grew older, it turned entirely different. They weren't some school couple that could break up and move on. They were in love. They went everywhere together, holding hands like in the sappy movies, stealing kisses behind doors, laughing at secret jokes only they found funny. Max had never imagined his future without Brian. But then Brian was accepted into a prestigious music school in New York, while Max was planning on going to culinary school in Glade City. The distance and time between them was too much. They both agreed that a long-distance relationship wouldn't work out and it might be best to go their separate ways. And so, they had. That was about five years ago. They should've been fine.

Max wasn't fine.

He was watching Brian make his way to the sleek, ebony piano, watching every line of muscle in the other man's body, and he knew he was far from fine.

Brian sat on the bench in front of the instrument and ran his fingertips reverently over the keys. "Wow, this piano is just...beautiful," he commented. A tinge of sheepishness entered his words, as though he wasn't used to saying the word "beautiful" that much. "Do you know where Frypan got it from?"

"I'm not sure," Max replied, folding his arms to lean on the piano and look down at Brian. "He said he got it from a friend when he first opened the place. It's been here ever since."

"People like it?" Brian asked.

Max chuckled. "Of course. Otherwise, you wouldn't be sitting here right now."

"You have a point there." Brian's voice was light with humor and he flashed Max a brief, shining smile. Then he turned back to the black-and-white keys before him. Pausing to shove his sleeves up to his elbows, he positioned his hands over the instrument. His head was cocked, as though trying to think of a song to play.

"What're you gonna play?" Max asked aloud, intrigued. He'd never heard Brian play piano before; that was something special and sacred that the musician kept to himself.

Brian shrugged with one shoulder indecisively. "I dunno..." he trailed off into thought. Absently, his fingers picked out part of some, upbeat song. It was a bouncing, cheery tune, something you expect to hear from pianists in old movies. It sounded horribly complicated, yet Brian's fingers danced over the keys with ease.

"Shuck, Brian," Max remarked, watching in faint awe. "You're really good."

Brian's mouth curved into a half-grin, acknowledging the compliment. He never glanced up from the piano once. After a couple more seconds, he abruptly switched a different song. It was much much slower, his fingertips gliding from one end of the piano to the other. It was music that sank into a person's soul, urged them to lose themselves in it. Heartbreaking and exquisitely beautiful, it sounded like a love song of some sort.

Max stared, enraptured. It was just so lovely, he couldn't believe that Brian was actually making it. His green gaze flicked down to see how Brian's slim, musician's fingers pressed into the keys. Then he looked at the way Brian's eyelids lowered when he played, showing crescents of amber irises beneath. A stray curl of dark hair slipped down near his right eye, unnoticed. Max felt himself start to melt.

When Brian finished the song, he let the final note hang in the air for a moment. It was suspended in the room, nearly tangible, before fading into nothingness. Letting out a breath, he looked up at Max questioningly.

Max continued to gape in shock. He tried to snap out of it and find words. "Brian, you're...incredible."

Brian gave a little, nervous laugh, a blush rising in his cheeks. "Thank you," he replied sincerely. "I thought you'd like—"

He was stopped when Max suddenly, inexplicably, reached out and brushed that lock of hair out of Brian's face. Max didn't know how he'd ended up there, sitting on the bench next to Brian, but that was where he was. His fingertips lingered too long near Brian's ear. Brian was watching him, lips parting slightly in surprise. A flicker of something passed over his face. "Max, I..."

A bolt of panic fired into Max's heart. He snatched his hand away. "God, I—Sorry," he stammered quickly. He knew his face was burning, and his pulse was racing, and he couldn't look at Brian anymore. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what I was doing."

Brian's gaze was fixed on the piano again. He appeared to be fighting with himself. "It's—it's fine," he managed. "I just...wasn't expecting it, that's all."

Please, let's drop the subject now, Max thought pleadingly. Please, please, please.

He wanted to forget that it ever happened.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted to pin Brian against the piano and kiss him until he forgot his own name.

He shook his head to clear it of these thoughts. "Well...I guess I'd better lock up now," he said quietly. He kept studying his shoes, shoulders hunched forward in shame. How had things gotten so awful so quickly?

Brian was silent for a minute. Then he let out a long breath. "Yeah. Okay."

-o-o-o-

Max didn't turn on any lights when he got home, save for a single lamp in the living room. It glowed softly from its coffee table, illuminating the otherwise-darkened walls. Stars winked from a pitch-black sky outside. He didn't want to look at them. He trudged through the rooms, dragging his feet over the floor. In his bedroom, he changed out of his work clothes and into pj's, which for him were just black pj bottoms and an old, blue track team tee. Then he made his sluggish way back to the living room and crashed backward onto the couch. He sat there briefly, running his hands back through his mussed, auburn hair. Signing, he snagged the remote off a table and flicked on the TV.

He must've searched through a dozen channels before the screen turned into a blurry rainbow of colors. Startled, he realized there were tears escaping down his cheeks. "Shuck it," he muttered, wiping at his face with one arm. "It's not like he came back for you; what were you expecting?" Saying it out loud just made it that much worse. The TV clicked off. And the remote hit the wall next to it with a hard snapping sound before clattering to the floor.

Max buried his face in his hands, a single, broken sob leaving his chest. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he was alone every goddamn night, it wasn't fair that he'd lived five wasted years, it wasn't fair that Brian was back and as far away as ever. It hurt so bad, his heart breaking all over again. He remembered those first nights without anyone, when he'd struggled to fall asleep, missing someone else to hold him. He'd fought every single day to forget what it felt like to fall in love and have it ripped away from him. He hated every agonizing part of it. And now Brian was here and he was bringing all of that with him, and he seemed just FINE. He'd gotten over Max.

Max wasn't stupid. He'd never gotten over Brian.

His body trembled as he struggled to control his tears. I love you, he thought uselessly, and it left him in a voiceless whisper. I love you, and I've always loved you, and you've ruined me because I can never love anyone else again. He sobbed again, harder this time, and his chest ached with it.

A sudden knock from his front door made him glance up. Sniffling like a little kid would after crying, he dragged his hands over his face. He hoped he could erase the last of his tears before he saw whoever was at the other side of the door. Pushing up off the couch, he padded past the open kitchen, to where the front door was. His hand closed on the knob and he pulled it open. His heart stopped.

Brian was standing in front of him, hugging himself in the chilly night air, still wearing only a shirt and jeans. His eyes rose from the ground when the door opened and fixed on Max's face. His shoulders slumped, and an expression of sadness and raw, aching want flashed over his face.

Max stuttered in disbelief. "B—Brian?"

"Max." Brian seized the front of Max's shirt before he could react, and hauled him forward until their mouths connected.

Max felt as though a lightning bolt hit him. His mind reeled and he burned with the unasked question: did this mean that Brian still...?

But he didn't ask. He just flung his arms around Brian, pressing their bodies flush against each other. He was kissing like he'd been starving for this, all desperate, breathless heat and the sweet taste that could only be Brian. It was so much softer than he remembered. Brian released a low, pleading sound and pushed Max back into the house. They didn't break the kiss as Brian kicked the door shut with his heel and backed Max up against a wall.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Max was aware that he was wearing pj's and that maybe he should be a little embarrassed. But he was too drunk with Brian to care. He only wanted THIS; one hand gripping low on Brian's hip, the other sunk deep in his silken hair, Brian's mouth tasting of sugar and honey and passion. Max couldn't get enough. The soft curve of Brian's bottom lip was too tempting and Max caught it between his teeth. Brian's gasp met his ears and made him want to hear more from him. Brian hastily pushed his hands up under Max's shirt. His palms slid over the hard muscle of his stomach, memorizing every ripple of skin. When his fingers splayed over Max's chest, Max let out a moan. The feel of Brian's skin on his was utterly intoxicating.

Brian broke away first, fighting for air. "Max," he gasped out, his gaze filled with desire and some other, deeper emotion. "God, I didn't know..."

Max lifted his hands, cradling Brian's jaw. "What is it, sweetheart?" he asked, and the name left him as easily as it had years ago.

Brian's eyes glistened. "I'm sorry," he blurted out brokenly. "I'm sorry I made you think I didn't want you anymore, and I'm sorry I left. I never forgot you, Max, not once. After all these years, I'm still—I'm still in love with you." He shivered at the confession and continued in a shakier voice. "And I know that you might want to move on, but I swear, if you give me a chance, I'll do everything I can to make you happy. You mean so much to me, more than you'll ever know. I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." He didn't finish. He nuzzled into the curve of Max's neck and rested his head there, trembly, arms wrapping around Max's waist.

Max felt the joy light up inside of him, enough to nearly make him cry all over again. He looped his arms around Brian's shoulders and hugged him close. Inhaling Brian's wonderful scent of burning wood and autumn, he nosed his hair affectionately. "Oh, Brian," he whispered. "My life's been...been hell without you. I couldn't move on, even if I wanted to. I love you."

Brian made a sound that was close to a sob. "I love you, too," he murmured hoarsely. "God, so much." He stayed there, his chin on Max's shoulder. He touched his lips once to Max's neck.

Max simply closed his eyes, holding the love of his life, finally.

And this time, there was no way he would ever let him go.

-PS: I was thinking of making this a two-part story, and the second part would be the scene that takes place AFTER this one: Max and Brian together for the first night in five years (it would be rated M). If any of you want me to write that for you, let me know in a review and I'd be glad to make it happen ;)


	2. Chapter 2

-Part Two-

-yayyyy, here's part two! Just a purely fluffy scene with Brian and Max (getting it on) that I hope you'll like ;). As always, this was written for those Max/Brian fans out there; thank you for showing so much awesome support for my own OC's. Reviews=love. I thank you in advance for them :)

Enjoy!-

Max couldn't believe that finally, finally, he and Brian had found their way back to each other.

They were sprawled lazily on the couch together now, the TV screen casting a bluish glow over them and the walls. Max was becoming drunk with Brian's presence, as slowly and surely as falling asleep. They laughed softly at the funny moments of the show they were watching, and cuddled like two teenagers, Brian's head nestled in the curve of Max's shoulder. Max had an arm around Brian, keeping him close. The body heat they shared left him nearly breathless. They talked and dozed and shared drowsy kisses in the dark. Max never wanted it to end.

"You don't even know, do you?" Max asked quietly. He was studying Brian's face in the dim light.

Brian glanced at him in surprised puzzlement, amber eyes flashing in the dark. "Don't know what?" he asked.

Max reached up with his free hand and gently pushed the dark-chocolate curls off of Brian's forehead. It was like velvet to the touch. "How beautiful you are," he murmured.

Brian blushed an adorable shade of pink. "I don't know if I'm beautiful..."

"You're stunning," Max assured him. He tipped Brian's chin up with two fingers, until they were nose to nose. "And I can't believe you're mine."

Brian's eyes dropped from Max's gaze to his mouth. His lips parted seemingly on their own, as though he couldn't even control the way he wanted Max. Max leaned in ever so slightly, and his lower lip grazed Brian's. Brian sucked in a shaky breath. "Max," he breathed out, the name escaping in a barely-there whisper.

Max took it as permission to close the distance between them completely. Their mouths met and it was just like the first time, and the second, and the third: so soft and yet so electric. Little tingles raced all over Max's body. He cupped Brian's face with a hand, deepening the kiss. Brian hummed low in his throat, leaning into Max's touch. It was like drowning in warm, dark water. Max couldn't get enough of it, of Brian.

Brian's hands fell on Max then, one curled into his neckline and the other pressed to his thigh. Max could feel the heat of Brian's palm searing his skin through his thin pj bottoms and a little gasp escaped him. He almost lost himself then. He grabbed Brian by the shoulders, pushing him down into the couch cushions and holding himself over him. Brian's quick intake of breath was the only sign that he was caught off-guard. Their kissing became more greedy then, desperate. Max could barely breathe, but he didn't care. Their bodies brushed together and sent little sparks all along his skin. He had one hand gripping the front of Brian's shirt, pulling upward, when Brian broke the kiss.

"Max, w—wait," he stuttered. He sounded breathless and unsteady, much to Max's delight. The dark-haired boy gazed up at him through half-closed eyes. "We have to wake up early for work tomorrow, you know. And we haven't...ever done...THAT... before..."

Max lifted a brow at that one, his lips beginning to turn up in a smirk. "Why, Brian, I don't think I know what you're talking about," he replied, feigning innocence.

"Oh, shut up, you know exactly what I mean," Brian huffed in return. "I'm just saying... It's true that we DO have to be at Starstruck early tomorrow. Maybe we should wait."

Max groaned in frustration and bent to nuzzle Brian's neck. "I don't wanna wait," he whispered.

Brian instinctively tilted his head to give Max more access to his neck. "Max..." His voice was ragged, caught between desire and scolding.

"I've already waited so long," Max murmured. He trailed his nose up the side of Brian's neck, marveling at the sleek, curving skin. "I've waited five years to be with you again. And now you're trying to say I can't even touch you," he added playfully.

Brian smiled slightly. "You're already touching me," he pointed out quietly, watching the way Max's fingertips toyed with the hem of his shirt, the way Max left little kisses on Brian's throat.

"Not the way I want to," Max mumbled into Brian's skin. He wanted all of Brian, wanted to feel every inch of his skin and memorize it again and again. Maybe he was being selfish, or maybe even foolish for wanting it so badly. But he did. He was horribly, utterly in love.

Brian swallowed as Max's words sank in. Then he slowly tangled his fingers into Max's auburn hair, lifting his head so their gazes could meet. Carefully, as though tracing a precious gem, he slid his fingers along the line of Max's neck, down to his collarbone, then his chest. Max could feel the pressure of every finger through his T-shirt and he let out a soft whine. Brian snagged his bottom lip with his teeth, thinking. Then he took a breath. "Okay."

Max stared at him. "What?"

"I said, okay, Max," Brian chuckled. He leaned up on one elbow, bringing his face close to Max's; his lips grazed the redhead's cheek first, then rested on his ear. "Make love to me," he whispered, breath hot on Max's skin.

Max's entire body trembled at both the sensation and the words themselves. He'd dreamed of this moment so many times, but nothing came close to this. He didn't give Brian another chance to speak. He had his hands slipping under Brian's thighs, lifting him up off the couch at the same time he began to stand up. Their mouths locked together, burning and gasping and needy. Max wrapped Brian's legs around his waist as he staggered to a standing position. Brian's hands where just...EVERYWHERE; they raked through Max's hair, seared Max's neck, dug nails into his back. Max couldn't think straight.

He managed to back up a few steps toward the back hallway, but then Brian started kissing a path along his jaw. He reached the place just beneath Max's ear and lingered there. He bit down gently and Max moaned. His back met a wall and he stayed against it, unable to move. Dimly, he knew Brian was standing now, that Brian's hands were skimming down his arms, but his mind was a foggy mess. Then Brian was peeling Max's shirt up his torso, over his shoulders, and off. "Brian," Max managed in surprise, because Brian had always been too shy to start taking Max's clothes off first.

Brian flashed a brief smirk at Max's voice. Then his fingers gripped Max's wrists, and he pinned them to either side of Max's head. He left a kiss on Max's lower lip, teasing it with his tongue. When Max leaned forward for more though, Brian pulled back. There was nothing but wicked mischief in his eyes. Max growled in frustration. "Dammit, Brian."

Brian chuckled lowly and finally kissed Max, deep and long. He angled his head to get closer, taking full control of this kiss. It was bold, a statement sealed on Max's mouth: he was Brian's, and Brian was his. The effects of such a kiss left Max gasping for air, aching for more. Brian let go his wrists for the short time it took to grab the bottom of his shirt and strip it off. Then he braced his forearms on the wall, on either side of Max's head, and kept him trapped.

Max could only stare at the tanned, silky skin rippling over the muscle in Brian's chest and stomach. God, he was so different from the lanky boy he'd been in high school. He looked sinfully beautiful, dark curls falling over his eyes, obscuring the honey-gold of his irises; his eyelids were half-lowered, the softness of his lips curving slightly, and his chest rose with every breath he took.

Max wilted and linked his hands at the back of Brian's neck. "I love you," he murmured.

Brian gave a little whimper, like the words went straight to his heart. He didn't speak, just kissed Max again. This time, it was him lifting Max up, looping the redhead's legs around his hips. He started down the hall that Max had been trying for earlier, guessing it led back to the bedroom. They'd only made it halfway down, blind and curled around each other, when he stopped. He broke the kiss with a sharp breath. "Which room?" he asked raggedly.

Max didn't stop kissing, searing the skin of Brian's neck with his mouth. "Last one," he mumbled. "On the right." He felt them start moving again. His teeth found the place between Brian's neck and shoulder, and he bit down. Brian's steps faltered as he whined in pleasure.

Brian had the shove the door open with his shoulder when he reached it. They stumbled deliriously into the darkened room. The moon-washed lines of a desk and chair, of the bed, all seemed to be a blur of silver and shadows. Max felt the cool mattress press against his back as Brian sank him down gently onto the bed. All he could hear was Brian's breaths, ragged in the dark. The other boy was on top of him then, holding the lean stretch of his body over Max's. There was a tiny moment of stillness. A mere centimeter of air separated their mouths, their chests, but their stomachs brushed and their legs twined together. Brian's gaze met Max's, amber eyes into brilliant green ones. Max found he'd forgotten how to breathe.

"Max," Brian whispered into the silence, "I love you."

Max felt tears prick his eyes at the words, the words he'd been waiting to hear for so long. Nothing ever came close to hearing Brian's voice form that sentence. "Just kiss me already," he managed, grabbing the back of Brian's neck and hauling their mouths together.

It wasn't like Max thought it would be; he thought he'd be nervous, even scared. He'd never done this with anyone, after all. But Brian was slow and sometimes-frustratingly tender. They kissed and kissed, hands finding clothing to peel off and exploring more skin. Max trembled when there was nothing else to separate them. They had found their way under the covers, the sheets falling around them. Brian was still on top, his nose brushing Max's as he held himself over him. He bent to press his lips to Max's and his fingers tightened on Max's hip. A surge of nerves made Max shudder. "Be gentle," he blurted out in a small voice, blushing in embarrassment.

Brian only smiled lovingly and cupped Max's face with one hand. "Of course, sweetheart," he murmured. "Whatever you want." He left a path of featherlight kisses down along Max's neck, reaching his shoulder and staying there. His breath exhaled harshly on Max's skin as he let himself slide into him for the first time.

A terrible sound of pleasure escaped Max's throat as he tipped his head back. His mind blanked as flames licked at his insides. Nothing had ever felt like this before. Brian pulled his hips back before rolling them forward into Max again, careful the entire time. Max whimpered again, clinging to Brian's shoulders. He knew his nails were digging into Brian's skin, but he couldn't loosen his grip. His body relaxed against the mattress and he let Brian take the lead.

And Brian set an agonizingly slow pace, torturous and addictive at the same time. Every grinding movement of his hips sent waves of ecstasy into Max's body. He wasn't thinking. He heard Brian moan out his name, felt the other boy tense above him. Max was seeing stars. He felt it when Brian rocked his hips into him especially hard and he threw his head back when he groaned. It had to be the most fantastic feeling he'd ever experienced.

They fell onto the mattress at the same time, exhaustion dragging at them. The only sound in the room was their shaky gasps and the thud of heartbeats. Brian's head was on the pillow beside Max's, his body half sprawled across the other boy's. Their legs were still tangled at the ankles, one of Brian's hands at Max's stomach, the other tucked under the pillow. Max turned his head, nuzzling the curls draping across Brian's forehead. His lips turned up at the corners. "Guess you're not so worried about waking up for work now," he mumbled.

Brian let out a laugh. "Shut up." He snuggled closer to his boyfriend, sliding his fingers up Max's chest. Nosing into the crook of Max's neck, he rested his head there contentedly.

Max laid there for a few more moments, as sleep threatened to overtake them. His eyelids drooped, but before they closed, he murmured, "Brian?"

"Hmm?"

"Say you're mine?" Max looked at him questioningly, his heart filling with light in his chest.

Brian grinned fondly, his eyes already closed. "I'm yours. Always."


End file.
